At the time I blamed Jill Goodman for this travesty of justice but, spiteful as she was, I now see that she was just another victim of Hubbard's. Today, she is out of Scientology and realizes what happened to her. In an interview with Russell Miller for his book, Barefaced Messiah, she said, «We became poisonous little wenches ... we had power and we were untouchable.» I certainly have to agree with her statement, but I don't blame her anymore. The truth that I was unwilling to face at the time was that neither David Mayo nor Jill Goodman were to be blamed for what happened. I am sure that LRH was to blame and I think he was getting back at me for continuing to see Quentin. Some day I would like to talk to David Mayo and Jill Goodman and find out exactly what went on.
An order for a Committee of Evidence from LRH was considered a serious matter. Every charge in the book was thrown at me and Barbara, the woman who was appointed Chairman of my Committee of Evidence, was well known on the ship to be someone who despised me. Before she got married, Barbara's husband had been interested in me. I didn't return his feelings, so he eventually got involved with Barbara and married her. I was happy to see that he found someone, but Barbara never got over her insecurity about me because sometimes her husband would still flirt with me in a joking way. He would bump into me on purpose and say things like, «we've got to stop meeting like this». Nothing ever came of it because I wasn't interested in him. Barbara made it very clear that she couldn't stand me. This is a matter of written record because once I was supposed to audit her and she refused to have me as her auditor. This is the person who was appointed as Chairman of my Committee of Evidence! I'm sure she had a great time finding me guilty of all charges against me. Once again, I was sent to the RPF. In addition, all my auditing certificates had been cancelled by LRH.
After I heard the Committee's verdict, I went to Quentin's cabin and told him about it. I knew that once I was on the RPF, I would no longer be allowed to go there. I told him that the RPF would be a relief after what I had been through in the past few months. I had lost everything I had worked so hard for. I didn't see how things could get much worse for me.
I was wrong. Things got much worse.
The Lesson of the RPF
In January, 1975, I was once again on the RPF. This time, however, it was not like the RPF of 1974 that I had been through the first time. This group of RPFers did not pull together to help each other through and it was not so easy for me to get out.
A new feature of the RPF had been invented called the RPF's RPF, for people who got into trouble on the RPF. A person assigned to the RPF's RPF had to work deep down in the engine room of the ship all day, cleaning out bilges and was supposed to sleep in the chain locker. No communication with anyone was allowed, except for the RPF's ethics officer. The first person assigned to the RPF's RPF was an executive from London named Ron Hopkins. I caught occasional glimpses of him on his way to and from the engine room. He was covered with muck from the bilges and looked miserable. He still had a chest cough from a bout of pneumonia he was obviously still recovering from. After a few weeks, Ron got out of the RPF's RPF and joined us on the RPF. He and I became friendly and, at first, he was one person who was supportive of me. I saw him as a very sensitive, yet strong person. I can remember that he loved to play flamenco guitar and would often play for us. He was a natural leader and soon became the person in charge of the RPF, at which time his cult personality took over.
Life on the RPF was hard, beginning each day at 5:30 AM. We were divided into groups of 5–7 people. The women's teams cleaned all the heads (bathrooms) on the ship, certain passageways and lounges, such as the aft lounge. Cleaning the heads didn't mean just swishing some toilet bowl cleaner around and going on to the next one. We had to scrub down the entire bathroom, including all the bulkheads (walls) and ceilings. After we cleaned an area, it had to pass a white glove inspection. If the glove came up dirty, the person who cleaned that area had to run laps from bow to stern of the ship (about 1/5 of a mile each). One time, when my senior wasn't satisfied with the way I cleaned a bathroom, she ordered me to «take a lap». I protested because I thought she was being unfair and her reply was, «Don't Q&A with me. Take two laps.» I objected again and she said, «Take four laps.» This went on until I was up to about 10 laps, which I eventually had to do. Another time, I was ordered to run laps and I walked them instead. The person in charge of the RPF at the time, Homer Schomer, caught me walking and ran after me. I tried to run away from him, but he was too fast for me. He caught me by physically grabbing me and I ended up having to do more laps.
The lesson we were to learn on the RPF was to obey orders without question, regardless of how we felt about it or who was giving the orders. This was a lesson that I was, obviously, very unwilling to learn. I had not learned it my first time on the RPF, so I was back a second time. Blind obedience violated everything I had ever valued. I had thought that Scientology was about independence and self-determinism, not blind obedience to authority.
To add to my difficulties, I was having trouble with my auditing partner. Being audited and auditing another through the RPF program was a requirement for graduation and my partner and I just weren't compatible. Finally, it became clear that it wasn't working out between us and, at his request, he was assigned to someone else. I tried another auditing partner, but that didn't work out either. I felt desolated. There seemed to be no hope for me getting out of the RPF. I can remember one day when I completely broke down. I went down into the lower hold where the RPF classroom was and cried like I have never cried before in my life. It felt like I was never going to stop. I felt totally out of control. Finally, Ron Hopkins went to the medical officer and got me some Cal mag, which was supposed to calm me down so I could get some rest. It seemed to work for a few hours, but the next day, my grief came back. I went through several days where I couldn't stop crying. I was in a deep state of mourning. I had lost a great deal more than an auditing partner. On an emotional level, I had come to the realization that Scientology was a sham, but only on an emotional level. I had no words to describe my loss at the time. There was no exit counsellor or deprogrammer around to help me see what was really happening. All I knew was that I felt worse than I ever had in my entire life.
David Mayo noticed the state I was in and seemed very concerned, but not even the Senior Case Supervisor could fix what was wrong with me. I felt I had lost everything. I had come into Scientology with great dreams and visions about what could be and I had worked hard to make those dreams a reality. For awhile, I felt that my dreams had come true. Less than a year before that, I had felt like I was on top of the world and that all the bad times were behind me. Then it was all taken away from me. Why was it taken away from me? Because I had asserted my right as a human being to choose my own friends and the friend I happened to have chosen was L. Ron Hubbard's son. I wished to God he hadn't been Hubbard's son, but he was. Hubbard could wipe a person out, it seemed. He could build a person up, make every dream come true and then, suddenly take everything away—just like that! I had lost my ability to be angry. All I could do was cry.